God Will Forgive
by DocJorgensen
Summary: Siegfried makes a cowardly decision and James suffers for it. But will James ever forgive Siegfried? Rating may go up.
1. Guilt

**Title: **God Will Forgive

**Chapter:** Guilt

**Author name:** DocJorgensen  
**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Angst, Drama  
**Characters: **Siegfried, James,Tristan

**Ships: **None

**Rating:** K+  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **In his guilt, Siegfried can only hope God Will Forgive.

**DISCLAIMER:** Behold! I own nothing.  
**Author Notes:** I wanted to see Siegfried guilty about doing something to James for once. I mean, he can do it for Tristan, but not for James? So, with that in mind, a little longer story about Siegfried and the consequences of what he has done. If interest, I will indeed continue.

* * *

Guilt was not something that Siegfried Farnon felt often.

But he did now.

It rose, squirming from his gut and, writhing into his chest. A black beast, whose bloody claws, ripping and shredding, tore into his heart. They were cold, those claws, and the beast was a chilly one.

It made him restless, unable to settle, constantly fidgeting, unable to face what he had done.

He hadn't meant to. It was meant to be an odious job, difficult possibly, not a…

Not a near disaster.

Siegfried ripped his eyes from where they stared at the tabletop, fingers clenched on the arms of his chair frantic to get away from his guilt.

He sat heavily, wishing that anyone could say him from this, wishing to forget, the large whiskey tumbler at his elbow no help now.

But oh! He could remember, and his cowardice was damning.

"It'll be an easy job, James! In and out." He had said, confidently blowing past James' objections. Oh, how wrong he had been.

"But Siegfried! It's your night on duty. Helen and I…" Siegfried remembered, anguish making the memory sharper, his glance of annoyance, then of resignation and duty. How many times had he done something similar?

Was it really worth it?

Was it?

Siegfried clamped his eyes shut, willing away the tears the threatened to fall, and put his head in his hands.

Desperately not looking at the seat to his left hand, where James always sat.

Empty.

The job, well simple enough, a whelping bitch, but he had had some troublesome situations with Mr. Howarth before, and weaseled out of it.

Like a coward.

And James, James had agreed. As always. He wasn't one to bow from his duty, out of distaste.

A coward! That's what he was.

Just a coward.

Siegfried shook his head, ran his hands through his blond hair and quickly got out of his chair.

He had had a date. Who even cared now?

He would go and visit James. That's what he'd do.


	2. Fatigue

**Title: **God Will Forgive

**Chapter:** Fatigue

**Author name:** DocJorgensen  
**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Angst, Drama  
**Characters: **Siegfried, James,Tristan

**Ships: **None

**Rating:** K+  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **In his guilt, Siegfried can only hope God Will Forgive.

**DISCLAIMER:** Behold! I own nothing.  
**Author Notes:** Dedicated to my lovely reviewers, ah, playing with Siegfried is so much fun.

* * *

As he came out of the sitting room, not looking, he bumped into Tristan.

"Can't you look where you are going?" Tristan looked hurt at Siegfried's rebuke.

"I say, Siegfried, it was your fault as well as mine." Siegfried pushed him aside, his mind swirling with thoughts, all of them dark, and painful. Tristan looked at his departing back, with confusion and not a little hurt. Siegfried was in a foul temper.

"Idiot. Numbskull. Nincompoop." Under his breath Siegfried cursed his brother, and inwardly cursed himself with the same words. Oh James.

Coward. Coward, his mind flung at him. He was so distracted that the sound of the telephone ringing made him jump, if only momentarily. Indecision warred within him, should he go or leave the telephone to Tristan? Duty won out.

"Darrowby 85?" Siegfried tapped his fingers on the phone, looking aimlessly about but inwardly annoyed.

Why now?

"Mr. Farnon?" A male voice, unknown, certainly not local, not with that accent.

"Yes?!" His impatience made him snappish.

"This is Detective Inspector Davidson, Mr. Farnon. I would like to speak with you in regard to the events of last Friday. Would tomorrow morning do?" Siegfried physically reeled in shock. But his good manners kicked in quickly.

"Yes, Inspector."

"Good. Would about 9 o'clock suit you?"

"Yes, thank you very much, Inspector. Good-bye then." He hung up the phone, slowly, lethargically collecting his coat and hat, stuffing his gloves into a pocket. Absentmindedly he called for the dogs, his voice lacking its usual vibrancy and charm.

He shuffled, rather like an old man, down the hallway, fatigue and worry, guilt and fear, warring within him. The dogs too were subdued, and he slammed the front door behind him, driving the Rover very slowly.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel as he stared out the window. His knuckles went white, as his heart pounded within his chest. As much as he had wanted to come, his anxiety and his reluctance were strong within him.

Christi pushed at his shoulder with her snout and he started, first looking down at his shoulder, than at the fawn whippet, and then Siegfried sighed and tousled her ears.

"I guess I have to go, don't I Christi? Hmm?" He said slowly, wearily, in the full understanding of a man who has known his duty and must now do it, as much as he didn't want to.

He got out of the car, and began to slump towards the hospital.

His fatigue was overwhelming.


	3. Front

**Title: **God Will Forgive

**Chapter:** Front

**Author name:** DocJorgensen  
**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Angst, Drama  
**Characters: **Siegfried, James,Tristan

**Ships: **None

**Rating:** K+  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **In his guilt, Siegfried can only hope God Will Forgive.

**DISCLAIMER:** Behold! I own nothing.  
**Author Notes:** Sorry for the slow update.

* * *

Taking off his hat, he stepped into the front entryway of the hospital, and made a beeline for the large desk, with a young attractive woman sitting behind it.

Despite the rings under his eyes and the fact that he felt about as vibrant and vivacious as a wet piece of tissue paper, Siegfried tried to smile as he inquired of the secretary at the large oak desk.

His fingers trembled on the edge of the desk and he willed them to stop, and then snatched them away when they would not.

"Mr. James Herriot?" She muttered slowly, smoothing down her blouse and scanning the book in front of her.

"Yes, please." Siegfried's voice sounded low and rough, even to his own ears, and he resisted the urge to scrape a hand over his eyes.

"May I enquire as to your relation, sir?"

"I'm his partner, Siegfried Farnon. His wife couldn't come to see him." The curiosity in the girl's eyes was overwhelming and Siegfried sighed a little and smoothed back his blonde hair.

"She's with child. Her second." Siegfried couldn't help the pride that crept into his voice as he thought about the child. He already had one godson to spoil, and soon he would have another. It was obviously a symptom of the stress and exhaustion, not to mention guilt that he was under that he felt like chuckling out loud.

"Of course, right this way, Mr. Farnon." He followed her to the door of the ward, his blue eyes already sweeping the beds earnestly for his partner. The large matron, who looked for all the world like a drill sergeant, pointed one imperious finger down the ward and Siegfried went.

His feet tapped quietly on the stone flagstones, his fingers tapping nervously against his pant leg as he walked to the bed in question.

James' dark hair was stark against the pillow, one arm resting on his stomach, the other down by his side.

Siegfried blanched at the dark bruise on his cheekbone, the dark red cut on his temple. Looking about, he saw a chair, and picking it up, set it near to the bed. He sat down on the very edge of the chair, resting his hat on his lap, and feeling as tight as a coiled spring.

Hesitantly, he stretched out his hand, and although his determination wavered, gingerly wrapped his long fingers around James' hand.

"James. Oh God, James." Tears flooded his eyes, and he blinked, his eyes watery. He looked down at the hand that he held, the scrapes on the knuckles.

At his work.

And Siegfried's front fell.


	4. Mistake

**Title: **God Will Forgive

**Chapter:** Mistake

**Author name:** DocJorgensen  
**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Angst, Drama  
**Characters: **Siegfried, James

**Rating:** K+  
**Spoilers: **None  
**Summary: **In his guilt, Siegfried can only hope God Will Forgive.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything – Mr. Wight does though  
**Author Notes: **My college search has taken over my life for now. Enjoy this update**!  
**

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* * *

**

"Please forgive me." Siegfried whispered urgently, determinedly. He stared at James' face, wishing desperately for him to open his eyes. "I didn't mean for this at all, James – you have to believe me."

He rubbed at his eyes roughly with the heel of his hand, the other still clinging to James' like a lifeline.

"What am I going to tell Helen?" The child which he had been so excited about previous just clung to his heart heavily now. It could grow up without a father.

All because of his mistake.

Forlorn blue eyes looked at the white bandages around James' middle, and the blood that was still encrusted under his fingernails.

_James felt a searing pain across his chest, and looked down in confusion at the blood dripping down his green sweater. He glanced again at Howarth, seeing to his surprise the dark shards of glass that cascaded down his shirt, and fell, tinkling, onto the carpet. _

_The blood dripping on the carpet from Howarth's head. The blood flowing from the stab wound in his chest. _

_Oh God he hurt. Slowly, he stumbled backwards, falling more than sitting, and inch by inch, slid down the pretty flowered wallpaper – leaving a deep crimson stain. _

"_Siegfr'd?" James called out, tongue thick and heavy. _

_Why wasn't Siegfried here? _

_Why wouldn't he help?_

_Why?_

James woke to the muted pain that suggested strong pain killers – and the sensation of someone holding his hand in their own. Blinking, his gaze traveled from his feet up to the person. Siegfried – and James was immediately struck by the look of open guilt on his face.

"Wh're's He—?" James rasped, words cut off by the sandpaper quality of his throat. Siegfried said nothing, just picked up a glass of water from the side table, and gently raised James to a sitting position.

It took every ounce of self control for James not to flinch away from the unexpectedness of the touch and to sip the water when he could feel Siegfried's eyes on him.

It was always nearly overpowering to have Siegfried's full attention placed on him.

James shifted slightly, wincing, as Siegfried lowered him down.

"Where's Helen?" He asked, looking steadily at Siegfried.

Siegfried squirmed with the full force of that dark blue gaze on him – and opened his mouth

"Helen is with her father. She took a turn for the worse when… when this happened." He took a deep breath, gesturing limply to the bandages on James' chest that showed just above the coverlet.

Christ.

What a bloody mistake to make.


	5. Drink

"**Drink"**

"But the baby?" James asked, chest suddenly tight and painful. Biting his lip, he placed his palm on his bandaged chest, as if to will away the pain.

"The baby's fine, James." Siegfried said, grateful for that small mercy. Awkwardly, he let James' hand drop to the coverlet, and nervously rubbed his hand through his hair. James sank back, though he hadn't realized he was tautly sitting up, and breathed easier.

Siegfried, for all that he had stuck his arms up to the shoulder in a cow's bloody chest, and stared at the mangled results of a car more often than not – felt unexpectedly queasy looking at James' injuries.

"How… How do you feel, James?" Siegfried said quietly, rubbing his thumb against his forefinger, feeling tiny and insignificant – _guilty as sin_ with James' blue eyes still staring at him.

"Fine-" At Siegfried's look of amazed reproach, was that guilt too?, James amended his answer "Awful. What happened with Howarth? His wife?"

"James – I…" How was he to know that you didn't know about Howarth and his wife, Siegfried thought. How was he to tell James that Howarth was now dead, and that Mrs. Howarth was still unconscious, the history of her husband's abuse standing out dark and savage on her fair skin.

Staring down at his hand, feeling lonely and desperate, Siegfried abandoned his mission to offer comfort to James. He sat silent and uncomfortable, eying the wrinkles in his trousers, feeling utterly miserable in this quagmire.

"Siegfried – what's wrong with you?" James said, raising an eyebrow, taking a deep breath and ignoring the burning sensation in his chest. He reached out, then stopped, nerve endings complaining loudly. Siegfried felt tears pooling in his eyes, and he stood up, abruptly, and put his hat on his head.

"Good-bye James." Siegfried said, turning, ignoring the confused look in James' eyes and the look of agony on his young, already lined face.

"…Siegfried?" James cried to Siegfried's back, and Siegfried flinched though he didn't turn around. He just walked away, away from James, away from his stupidity, and into the cold outside. Desolation made James more emotional and more tired than he actually was and he leaned back into his pillow, covering his painful and stitched face with his hand, ignoring the tears of loneliness. Tears of betrayal.

At the edge of the ward, Siegfried glanced back over his shoulder, and the sight of James seeking assurance in his absolute loneliness sped his step towards the threshold, ignoring the black hole of dark emotion in his chest.

Siegfried bloody needed a drink.


	6. Thorough

**"Thorough"**

Detective Inspector Davidson was thorough. So implacably, indefatigably thorough that Siegfried felt like he was wearing short trousers when he ate a hurried tea, on the way to his round.

Better work – then to think about what ailed him. But if there was one thing Yorkshire folk disliked – it was thorough people sticking their noses into what was thoroughly not their business. And if there was a thing they disliked more than this – it was being _ashamed_ of what that thorough someone found there.

And so all day Siegfried was enquired of, consoled, commiserated with, gossiped about and so thoroughly watered with over-brewed tea that he felt as though he would go thoroughly mad.

"Give regards to the young vetinary!" Came drifting over the pasture fence and Siegfried _winced. _

It was this very thorough feeling of having been picked over, undone and otherwise had all of the stuffing pulled out of him that had Siegfried turning for the hospital at the end of his round, even though it was very late and he felt reluctant with every kilometer further.

If he was a horse, he snorted, he'd of died of colic by now.

But that Davidson.

"Am I to understand that you thought Mr. Herriot thoroughly aware of Mr. Howarth's notoriety?"

And that was the rub. What had he thought? It was lost, somewhere between sloth and tragedy, wrapped in heavy chains of guilt.

"That this Mr. Howarth had a reputation for being a jealous man? Murderously jealous?"

And the Inspector's tone had been murky on the word murderous, was he truly questioning, or did he suspect Siegfried?

"Gossip held that he knocked his wife around. Did you know that Mr. Farnon?""

Did the Inspector suspect him as he already thoroughly condemned himself?

Somehow his thoughts always came back to rest on this one.

_That James hadn't known. _

And the line between that and Siegfried's guilt was very thin.


	7. Frozen

Frozen

The ward was still and dark and Siegfried crept through with the grace of a mischievous cat. He didn't know what he was going to say – not with glibness certainly, he hadn't the courage or the strength left for that.

Could he pray? For forgiveness? But what was God's forgiveness without James'?

_James was feeling less than charitable with Siegfried about this Howarth job. But he pulled his sweater down, pulled open the gate and walked up to Howarth's house. There was an ominous feeling in the back of his mind, but perhaps that was because the air was still and silent, without any cheerful smoke spilling out of the chimney. _

_He knocked. Loud heavy footsteps slapped the flagstones behind the door, and the door was wrenched open, revealing a burly man. He was balding, with the size of his sweater clad arm suggesting that the expanse of his middle was the result of a powerful man gone to seed._

"_Mr. Howarth?"_

"_What do you want?" Howarth took a swig of the bottle in his right hand and James took a step backward. _

"_Err – I'm here about your bitch –"_

"_Oh – are you the one, laddybuck?" And where once James had seen the placidity of a mellow drunk, Howarth's face changed, and he reached out one enormous fist and grabbed James' collar. It was an unnerving feeling, a grown man being hauled about like a first former. _

_ "Bitch! Your lover is here – why don't you come and see him!" Howarth's face was red, and in a sudden burst of anger as his wife's white and fearful face came into the hall, he pulled James into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him. _

_Roughly he shoved James ahead of him, and then the sound of glass shattering. And James' world went red, and blurry, and surprisingly off balance, in a surge of pain. _

_ "Jack – thou hasn't! thou mustn't!" His wife shrieked._

_ "Don't tell me, woman" and Howarth slapped her, and she fell against the hallway table heavily. "Nattering on about the dog – when he's come to lay with my wife. Didst thou learn, bitch, I'm your husband?" And all at once, things became painfully clear, Mr. Howarth was jealous, murderously jealous of his wife. _

_But why hadn't Siegfried warned him?_

_ Why hadn't he?_

But James was asleep, as Siegfried stood by, watching. Nor did he stir when Siegfried gently pulled up the mussed coverlet, and took an uneasy position against the wall. Just for a little while. It was more than a little while later when he finally made it home, and doubtless he'd be feeling it in the morning.

But what were a few hours of discomfort, when his very soul seemed to be frozen?


End file.
